Comfort Comes as the Color Blue
by Little Miss Slytherclaw
Summary: Keith is restless, and his worry for Shiro grows every minute. When Lance comes to offer him comfort, Keith doesn't really know how to react. The only thing he does know is that he's exhausted. Takes place at the beginning of season 7, right after the battle with Lotor.


**Grace! Happy (late) birthday!**

 **I've never officially talked to you, but you're there for Elizabeth, so I've decided to like you. Also. You love Voltron, and really so do I.**

 **This is my first Voltron fic, though, so that felt a little strange. I've only ever written Harry Potter, so sorry if this is a little... not up to par.**

 **Hope you enjoy it!**

 **.**

 **Note: This takes place at the beginning of Season 7, so just after the battle with Lotor while the team is on that planetoid and Shiro's clone is deciding whether to accept or reject his consciousness.**

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 **Comfort Comes as the Color Blue**

Keith was restless, pacing back in forth in the cargo hold of the Black Lion, his fingers wrapped tightly around his bayard. Every few seconds, he glanced to the center of the hold where the soft blue light of the cryopod bled into the surrounding darkness.

This wasn't how things were supposed to go.

"Keith," a soft voice called out, and Keith tensed up, turning his head from the pod and resuming his pacing, walking away from the intruder.

He took a moment before even attempting to speak. "You should be asleep… like the others," Keith said, finally turning around to face Lance, his jaw set. He was trying. Trying so hard to remain composed—but he could feel his facade breaking.

Lance shifted from his right foot to his left, his hands clasped behind his back. He had the same dark circles that Keith had under his eyes. "I… I couldn't sleep… I thought you could use some company."

Bright blue eyes shifted to the cryopod, and Keith felt anger building up within him. "Don't give me any bullshit about how he would want me to get rest. I don't want to hear it," he said, his lip curling up in a snarl. When Lance bit his lip and looked down, Keith felt his heart tighten.

With a reluctant sigh, he let his bayard return to his suit and sat himself down against one of the storage crates, looking down at his hands. "Sorry," he added in a softer voice than before. "You're right. Company… sounds good."

He didn't look up to see Lance's reaction, he couldn't bring himself to, but he heard the other Paladin walking over and popping up onto the crate beside him.

Unlike Keith, who was still in his armor, Lance was wearing a pair of pajamas, his jacket thrown haphazardly over his shoulders and his feet clad in his Blue Lion slippers. A bag was held in his left hand.

"Here," Lance said as he reached into the bag and pulled out a thermos, setting it carefully in Keith's hands. "It's just milk, but you haven't eaten anything since… well… and this should give you some nutrients."

Keith blinked in surprise and looked up at Lance—he hadn't eaten anything? How long had it been? He was usually relatively on top of taking care of himself, even in rough times. "Thanks," he said before taking a relatively large gulp of the milk, then another one, his eyes closing at the taste. He hadn't realized how parched he had been.

Lance shrugged with a small smile before turning his attention back to the cryopod. "He's going to make it, Keith," he said, gently nudging Keith's arm with his elbow. Keith just grimaced and set the thermos to the side.

"Maybe. Allura says that the clone body is slowly rejecting Shiro's consciousness. If the body doesn't… we could lose Shiro for good," Keith said, feeling his guts twist at the thought. The milk that had been so refreshing just moments before seemed to curdle—he wanted to throw up, to give in to his own fears.

Keith could feel his hands shaking, his entire body tense and rigid, though he wasn't expecting to feel warm fingers carefully brushing against his knuckles. Almost instinctively, he twisted his palm up, and those warm fingers threaded through his. It was calming, this connection, and Keith let out a relieved breath.

"Shiro's a fighter," Lance said softly, and Keith closed his eyes, exhaustion taking over his body.

Slowly, without even thinking about it, he leaned against Lance's shoulder, wishing he could feel the other boy's warmth through his armor. "He shouldn't have to fight anymore. He deserves so much more."

Silence filled the hold for a moment before Lance let out a breath. "You do too. You are a fighter, a great leader, a good person. You deserve more than this lot you were cast."

Keith didn't reply. Half of him wanted to rebuke Lance's statement and explain just how much he deserved every hardship in his life, but the other half was just so tired. He leaned a little heavier against Lance, his head resting on the other boy's shoulder as his heavy eyes locked on the cryopod.

Suddenly, Lance ripped his hand out of Keith's and leaned forward, forcing Keith to sit upright, confused and a little hurt by the rejection. The heaviness in Keith's chest grew, and he brought his eyes back down to his hands, feeling stupid for thinking that Lance was okay with giving so much support. He should have known—

"I brought pajamas," Lance said, interrupting Keith's thoughts as he pushed a pair of soft blue pants and a matching shirt into Keith's hands. "I didn't want to go through your stuff without your permission, so… I brought mine."

Keith frowned and looked up at Lance, who was rifling through the bag again. "I also brought a blanket," Lance continued, pulling a thick blanket out of the bag before tossing the bag to the side and turning his attention to Keith.

Unable to stop himself, Keith shifted and reached up to cup Lance's face between his hands so he could pull him down. The action was desperate, but the kiss was gentle and short, their lips barely even touching. When Keith pulled away, he could feel silent tears running down his heated cheeks.

"Sorry," Keith started, dropping his hands back to his lap and turning away. He was reeling from what he had just done. What had he just done? "I…"

When he spared a glance at Lance, Keith found him to be smiling. With warm, gentle hands, Lance touched Keith's cheeks, prompting the leader of Voltron to face Lance properly.

"Let's get you into those pajamas, yeah?" Lance asked in a whisper as he carefully wiped the tears off of Keith's skin. Keith simply nodded, his eyes locked on the soft blue light reflecting from Lance's eyes.

Lance's movements were gentle, but sure, as he helped Keith remove his armor and put the soft sleep clothes on. Normally, Keith would have rejected such help, but he was so tired, and Lance's hands were so, so warm and kind.

He felt like he was melting, but maybe that was okay.

Before long, he was clothed, even down to the pair of fuzzy socks on his feet, and being wrapped up in the thick blanket.

"Everything will work out alright," Lance murmured as he leaned against the wall behind him, tenderly pulling Keith so his head was resting on his chest, and Keith melted completely, feeling his body relax for what must have been the first time since his battle with Shiro's clone.

With Lance holding him, Keith felt vulnerable and safe all at once. He felt warm, and protected, and little. And, with how Lance's fingers gently traced up and down Keith's arm, he felt loved.

Slowly, his surroundings started to dull—all that he could feel was the steady thrum of Lance's heart beating beneath him, all he could see was the soft blue light emanating from the cryopod, and all he could hear was Lance humming a soft tune under his breath.

The last thing Keith registered before falling into the land of sleep was Lance's lips on his forehead.


End file.
